


Pine Needles and a Summer Breeze

by horologiiums



Series: Pine Needles and a Summer Breeze [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Mild Angst, Minor Character Death, Pre-Relationship, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 22:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20415598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horologiiums/pseuds/horologiiums
Summary: A dark ring wound its way around Claude's pupil, reminding Byleth of the rings that made their rounds on a tree stump.She tilted her head a touch, thinking.A tree. Kind of like pine, she decided.





	Pine Needles and a Summer Breeze

**Author's Note:**

> I've finished FE16 five times already & in an attempt to stop replaying it, I wrote about Claude & Byleth because I love them & they're adorable as heck.

She was fine with simply watching the students dance. Uniform skirts twirling with every spin the girls took and loud clacks of heels with every step the boys made. What with everything happening within the monastery those past few months, from Flayn’s kidnapping to the incident at Remire village, it almost felt wrong to Byleth that a ball was taking place, festival or not. Still, she couldn’t deny that the change of pace was refreshing. One night off from all of the struggles she and the entire school had to deal with wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?

She was fine with simply watching the students dance. It was admittedly mesmerizing, the synchronization of each pair of students spinning and striding in time with one another. Mesmerizing, so much so that when the leader of the class she taught approached Byleth, grabbing her hand in his, she flinched in surprise.

Claude was somewhat of a fickle one. Not in the sense that he was abrasive or quick tempered - in fact, he was quite the opposite - but rather his entire being was mysterious. At times he would be open with Byleth, sharing his thoughts, worries, past experiences with her as she encouraged all of her students should do. As their professor, she felt it was her responsibility to listen to their troubles and offer advice as best she could. At other times, he would dodge questions like he would dodge incoming arrows or javelins on the battlefield, and fire off his own inquiries in retaliation. He was a difficult one to understand, and often being told by her peers growing up that she was a difficult one to understand herself, Byleth couldn’t help but feel intrigued by Claude. Was this how other people felt around her? What a strange feeling.

She was fine with simply watching the students dance, but with Claude eagerly tugging her into the thick of the dancing, it seemed that she had no choice but to join in. Byleth was unfamiliar with dancing; it was not as though her father had ever taught her how to dance during their mercenary days. There was no need for it. And despite inviting her to the ballroom floor, Claude was quickly proving that he was quite a stranger to the activity as well. He thankfully knew enough to guide her left hand to his shoulder while the other clasped Byleth’s hand off to the side - she would have been disappointed if he hadn’t _ at least _ known that much - but the rest of his performance proved sloppy at best. Stepping on each other’s toes every other step, Claude winking in apology with the occasional “Oops!” slipping in. It was quite embarrassing to say the least, but the students all seemed to be too enamored with their own dance partners or the food that filled the tables off to the sides of the reception hall to notice, so there was no reason to feel self-conscious. Not that Byleth would have felt that way regardless. Perhaps just slightly foolish.

They swayed, stepping over each other’s feet for a solid number of minutes. With nowhere else to look but Claude’s face, Byleth took a moment to take in the sight of her student. Of course she knew what he looked like, she had been teaching him for six months by that point. Tousled brown hair with a single thin braid hanging down the right side of his face. Dark skin, lighter colored lips always set in a smile, green eyes…

..._ Hm. _

Byleth’s gaze stopped on Claude’s eyes. He wasn’t looking at her, opting to concentrate on their feet as they continued to twirl around the hall. Thankfully so, as Byleth knew that if she were to be caught needlessly making her “scary dead eyed professor face” at him, he would jump away at once and call her out on it as he had many times before.

She wasn’t unaware that his eyes were green. She had made eye contact with him - the “scary dead eyed professor face” - many times before, especially when he would start goofing off or yawning too loudly during instruction sessions or seminars. It was a good way to get him to straighten his back and redirect his focus back on his work. But being in such close proximity to him as his toes pushed down on hers yet again, she had the time to reevaluate her adjective choice.

Claude’s eyes weren’t just green. There was almost a strange mix of blue to them, making them darker than those of the other students at the monastery who shared the trait. A dark ring wound its way around his pupil, reminding Byleth of the rings that made their rounds on a tree stump.

She tilted her head a touch, thinking.

A tree.

_ Kind of like pine. _She decided, wincing as Claude’s clumsy footwork took its toll on her own once more.

* * *

Five years.

Millennium festival.

Five years.

That was what that man in the war torn village had said. Had she really been asleep for five years?

_ Maybe I died. _She half joked to herself silently.

It didn’t take long for Byleth to reach Garreg Mach Monastery and witnessing the state that it was in left no doubt in her mind. Shattered windows, collapsing pillars, rubble piling up in every direction she looked… War against the Church had broken out. And still, the war raged on, not caring to wait for her despite her long disappearance. Her chest felt heavy at the fact, despite knowing that a war would never wait on her nor anyone.

But it was the millennium festival. Perhaps someone, or some _ class _would have waited on her.

Byleth made her way straight to the cathedral, passing by more torn areas of the monastery as she went. Foolish as it sounded back in the day, the promise that the Golden Deer house had sworn to keep still stood. On the day of the festival five years ago, Claude’s voice rang in her ears:

_ “In exactly five years’ time, let’s promise to meet again, right here at the monastery.” _

The class all seemed enthusiastic at the time, pondering aloud what kind of food would be present, where they would be in life… Byleth smiled inwardly as she recalled it all. It felt like a distant memory. Though given Fódlan’s current state and the fact that she truly had been asleep for five years, perhaps it was just that.

But it was still the day of the festival. The promise hadn’t been broken yet. There was still time.

The cathedral, not to mention every room Byleth had passed on her way there, was deserted. The halls were ruined, scarred. The outdoor vegetation was overgrown, not having been tended to for many moons. It was a difficult sight to witness when only a short time ago, Byleth roamed those very halls daily, chatting with fellow faculty members and students, regardless of class. It was peaceful, simple, welcoming. A warm air that everyone belonged in...

Air.

Byleth shifted, looking around her. It may had been a long time since her mercenary days but not as long as her days she had _ spent _ as a mercenary. Hunting bandits in daylight or moonlight, sneak attacks, she was familiar with most tactics in the book. And she was also familiar and rather gifted at sniffing out thieves, especially in long abandoned places that served as their hideouts.

Such as the long abandoned Garreg Mach.

_ The air here feels wrong. _ She hadn’t noticed it on her way to the cathedral. Perhaps she was moving at too fast a pace, thinking too many thoughts. She had foolishly let her guard down, an amateur mistake. But in hindsight she hadn’t been attacked thus far so she figured there was little point in scolding herself over it. The bigger problem was that the air within the monastery walls didn’t feel still. Rather, it felt disturbed. And recently at that.

Deciding that reminiscing could wait, Byleth concentrated, trying to discern where the disturbance’s path led. It was easy to tell right away that whoever, or whatever, was within the monastery wasn’t a part of a large group. The presence of another life was faint, quiet. Had a group been present, Byleth had more than enough faith in her instincts that she would have noticed it the second she was within Garreg Mach’s deserted exterior marketplace, lost in thoughts or not.

She recalled what the villager had told her when she awoke earlier, _ “I hear some thieves have been spotted around those parts these days.” _

_ Thieves, huh? _ Could that have been it? Byleth took a moment to consider the possibility, hand in her chin, concentrating. She didn’t doubt the villager’s warnings about thieves but she also didn’t feel particularly threatened by the fluctuation the more she focused on it.

_ A student? _ She both wanted and did not want to consider the possibility. Had a Golden Deer student who remembered the promise they shared of returning to the monastery arrived, Byleth would have felt quite overjoyed. However, getting her hopes up to reunite with those bright eyed misfits of hers, only to not be greeted by one of them, would no doubt leave her crestfallen.

Still, she knew standing around doing nothing wouldn’t accomplish anything. Steeling herself, Byleth left the cathedral. After minutes of mentally feeling her surroundings, it was easy to tell where the disturbance had gone.

She headed toward the Goddess Tower.

*

She felt someone atop of the Goddess Tower before she saw them. Byleth braced herself as she reached the final step of the staircase, turning into the room on the highest floor of the tower. Daybreak’s light filtered into the room through the set of open balcony doors and standing in that light was a lone man.

Byleth would have allowed her heart to drop had she not remained tense. She wouldn’t deny the disappointment that washed over her when she didn’t recognize the person as one of her students; unfamiliar regal attire, almost looking as though it belonged to a noble. Not that nobles were uncommon within the monastery’s class registry - many of her own students in the Golden Deer house were nobles themselves - but this man’s clothing appeared… foreign, not that of Fódlan. A stranger, she surmised silently. She had to remain vigilant.

“Hm?”

Byleth was standing in the shadows of the room’s entrance so she hadn’t expected to be noticed so soon. The man was staring right at her, mouth agape. Instantly, she readied herself, prepared to draw the sword that never left her side but she hesitated when he smiled at her, greeted her, even going so far as to scoff and complain that she sure made him wait a long time.

Byleth felt a whirl of confusion consume her. What was this person talking about? Wait? Waiting for what?

The small hope in her chest glimmered, her mind putting two and two together.

_ Five years. _

_ Waiting. _

Byleth straightened but didn’t drop her guard. She took one step forward, then another, until she too was standing in the sun’s morning light. Closer to the stranger, but not too close, Byleth examined his face.

Brown hair that had been carefully combed back, a single stray strand of it hanging down the right side of his forehead, long sideburns accenting his jawline. Dark skin, lighter colored lips set in a smile, pine green eyes…

_ Pine. _

The shocked expression that she knew had appeared on her face must have looked particularly dopey; Claude laughed, flashing his teeth at her.

* * *

The march back to Garreg Mach from Gronder Field felt longer than it should have. Or perhaps it really was taking longer. Morale of the Alliance troops had ironically fallen considerably after they had emerged from the battle victorious. It wasn’t that the soldiers weren’t relieved to be alive; most of them probably wanted nothing more than to celebrate another hard earned victory. But when the spirits of their commanders were grave, beaten, it affected everyone in the army.

And so the slow march back to their headquarters continued.

Byleth took her post at the front of the army. Claude opted to walk next to her, allowing the white wyvern that he always rode into battle to fly high overhead. Neither of them spoke. There was no need to; the silence served as solidarity.

How many people - how many _ familiar faces _ \- had died during the battle at Gronder Field? Byleth knew, realistically and logically, for a long time that fighting familiar faces was an inevitable tragedy that would befall all of them during the war. She had killed many herself. Some were merely familiar faces, while others had names to go along with them.

Byleth glanced over at Claude who was looking blankly ahead of them as they walked. His face denied any sort of emotion but his eyes betrayed him.

There was torment in his gaze.

He had made it a point to Byleth multiple times prior, both directly and indirectly, that he didn’t want to kill anyone that he didn’t have to. That was what his “stomach ache inducing poison” schemes back in his school days meant. What his order at Gronder Field, to only attack those who attacked them first, meant. Unfortunately for them both, war was not that simple nor kind.

Byleth had only ever seen them speak around one dozen times, only ever overheard their conversations less than the total amount of times that she could count on one hand. It was a silly conversation; she was too serious and he was too laid back.

There were no words spoken about "seriousness" or "laziness" when Claude fired an arrow at Ingrid, killing her in a single shot.

Her head whirled at the memory and Byleth winced, failing to suppress the spinning that only seemed to be getting worse.

She wondered if she could have saved them. Thanks to Sothis, Byleth had acquired the power of Divine Pulse, which allowed her to manipulate time. She had already saved many allies thanks to it in their last battle. In fact, it dawned on Byleth that she had not used her power of Divine Pulse ever since she had watched her father be killed before her very eyes.

It pained her that that particular memory resurfaced but she was grateful for it as well. It was a reminder - her comrades, her former students, were not fated to die at Gronder Field.

Marianne came to mind. Byleth remembered her falling off of her steed, Dorte, after getting hit by an arrow fired from the ballista stationed on the central hill. Foot soldiers surrounded her instantly, their lances piercing her frail body. But as the Alliance army marched back to Garreg Mach, thanks to Divine Pulse, Marianne rode Dorte not too far behind Byleth, seemingly trying not to nod off.

It wasn’t just Marianne who Byleth had witnessed fall in that battle. Lysithea had taken a javelin to her back from an imperial soldier, Lorenz rushed too far ahead and was ambushed by the Kingdom’s hidden troops…

She glanced at Claude again, her gaze not daring to dip to his neck...

Byleth noticeably swayed at the memories that time and her right hand flew to her forehead.

Her head was hot. And damp. Her bangs clung to the skin just above her brow. And now that she thought about it, her entire core was also hot. Why was she so hot? And why were her arms getting heavier the more she thought about those things?

Beside her, sounding like he was speaking through a tube, she heard Claude. “Woah, you alright?”

Byleth opened her mouth to answer but it was difficult to move her lips properly, to get her voice to come out. “...’m fine.” she managed, but she found herself reeling even more after she spoke.

“No, you’re not.” Claude’s voice sounded so far away, even more distorted. Byleth thought that she felt pressure on her shoulders but by that point her entire body was beginning to go numb, her vision turning white. She recognized the sensation of falling but couldn’t decipher what it was that she crashed into when the falling stopped.

_ It's hot… _she was able to determine that much. Whatever she had fallen into was warm, but unlike the undesirable heat that was spreading throughout her body internally, the exterior warmth she was pressed against was comforting, safe. It wrapped around her back, cradling her. She wanted to melt into it, forget the battle at Gronder Field, forget the old students she killed, forget seeing her comrades fall, forget seeing Claude die…

She tried to nuzzle into the warmth though it was too difficult to move. She couldn’t see anything anymore, couldn’t feel anything anymore… The scent of sweat and blood greeted her instead and as it was about to instill fear into Byleth, something else accompanied it… It was nostalgic, gentle. The scent of a summer breeze...

Soon, that too was gone and her hearing was quick to follow; from a far, far distance, she thought she could hear a voice: “...eac… yleth…!”

Then, everything went dark.

*

It didn’t take long for Byleth to recollect what had happened. In fact, she could already hear Sothis scolding her: _ “You buffoon! You haven’t fought such a strenuous battle in years! You haven’t used my powers in _ years! _ Of _ course _ you overexerted yourself!” _

Byleth made a noise in her throat just at the thought of Sothis’s rampaging. It had been the first thing to come to mind the moment she awoke in her room back at the monastery.

_ I’m not setting a very good example… _she uselessly reprimanded herself. Having already fainted in front of the entire army there was little point in telling herself to not do that. Still, she knew she would have to apologize to everyone later. Her former students, not to mention many other soldiers in the Alliance army, were all kind people. No doubt they overly concerned themselves with her fainting. She wished that she could have told them all that she would be alright as it was happening, but admittedly she hadn’t even realized what was going on until it was too late.

Byleth closed her eyes and laid on her back for a while longer, trying to not think about anything at all - and most definitely not the battle at Gronder Field. So much bloodshed and death… she was unable to know for sure when the war would end, but she decided it best to push aside such thoughts until the war concluded. There would be time for grieving and sorrow eventually. But she had to remain strong, not just for herself but for every member of her army.

Figuring laying around for much longer would be a waste of time, Byleth carefully pushed herself up into a sitting position. Thankfully she no longer felt any dizziness and she let out a short breath of relief. In any other situation she would have jumped out of bed and headed straight for the baths - aside from her long coat which was hanging off of her desk chair, she was still wearing the gear she had worn in the last battle and frankly she felt dirty and grimy all over - but something caught her eye.

Her usual navy blue blanket had been covering her as she slept but on top of it was another piece of cloth. Given the color and similarity to the piece of cloth she had often seen adorning his shoulder, Byleth was able to quickly put the pieces together.

She reached for the edge of the yellow fabric, surprised at the feel of it between her fingers; it was much softer than it looked. Byleth fiddled with it in both hands for a moment, scrunching and pulling gently. She examined it a bit more closely. There was some tearing and fraying on the edges, as well as small splatters of dried blood here and there. He would probably have to replace it sometime soon, she thought, unless he didn’t mind looking like a slob of a leader.

Byleth’s hands stilled. She stared at the cloth.

“...I’m glad you’re alive.” She knew that he wasn’t around to hear her words of gratitude but she said them anyway, as though the cloth itself would deliver her feelings to him on her behalf. When the war ended, she would tell him directly. She feared saying it to him any time sooner would curse him to die and Byleth wasn’t sure that she could handle watching him fall in battle at the hands of an old friend again. Turning back the hands of time with Divine Pulse or not, watching him die once was one time too many.

Hesitantly, she lifted the edge of the cloth she had been playing with in her hands to her face. She inhaled softly.

Byleth recalled when she had fainted and had crashed into something. In the moment, she couldn’t figure out what it was that had caught her - the warm surface that held her tight and refused to let go. But in hindsight, it was obvious. He had been standing right next to her, the only one who knew something was wrong with her, the only one prepared to catch her should she fall.

Sweat, blood… the scent of pine needles carried by a summer breeze.

_ It smells like him. _

Byleth fell back into bed and curled up on her side, keeping the fabric close to her face. Laying around when she was already wide awake was a waste of time, but she supposed she could spare a few more minutes.

* * *

“I love you. With everything I am.”

Claude pulled Byleth into his arms when he said the words and Byleth didn’t need to see his face to know he wore a bashful smile. It was a shame that he would be leaving Fódlan for his homeland to the east so soon after they had won their final battle and she inwardly admitted that she was upset. But in the past months, in learning the truth about herself, in understanding what the feelings she held close to her non-beating heart were called, Byleth had realized that her dream aligned with his. A peaceful world, no longer bound by physical walls and metaphorical barriers. It made her happy, strangely, having a place in the world Claude so desperately dreamed of building. They would be apart for a time, but they would build their world together, like they had done everything else before.

Their pitiful excuse of dancing at the ball nearly six years ago abruptly came to mind and Byleth smiled slightly against his chest. That hadn’t been the first time they had worked together; there were many tasks she had requested his aid in, but it was the first thing they had done on a whim, not because it was something that needed to be done.

It wasn’t long after that that she fell asleep for five years. And after awakening, she reunited with Claude at the top of the Goddess Tower, where they currently stood embracing. She wanted to scoff at her past self for not recognizing him. She had promised him and all of her students that they would meet again on that very day. There was never a reason to doubt him. She wondered if Claude still found her reaction at realizing who he was comical. She decided that she couldn’t blame him if he did.

Claude’s hand on the back of her head was warm and the arm around her back, keeping her close, was comforting. She wanted to stay close to the comfort he provided, much like that of the phantom she had collapsed into when she exhausted herself after the battle at Gronder Field. Byleth tightened her grip on the cloth adorning his shoulders, the very same fabric he had blanketed her with after safely returning her to the monastery. The one that she had held close to her face, that had managed to lull her back to sleep.

She would miss him. Even though Claude had already promised he would return - and she didn’t doubt him for a second - Byleth knew it would be difficult without him, at least at the start.

But their time together atop the Goddess Tower wasn’t over yet. Byleth tried to snuggle up even closer to Claude, earning herself a chuckle from him. She stood on her toes, the same ones he had stepped on many times years ago, hiding her face in the space between his shoulder and neck. He wore too many layers; she wanted to feel his skin against her face, see the bare flesh above his collarbone, unmarred and free of scars.

_ I suppose this will suffice. _Byleth remained on the tips of her toes but she relaxed, accepting that her efforts were futile. She let Claude’s arm on her lower back support her, moving both of her hands from his shoulders to behind his back. She breathed in deep, cherishing the final pine needle scented summer breeze of the Verdant Rain Moon.

**Author's Note:**

> aka: Byleth's only senses are sight & smell & Claude is actually a tree. I've never written anything so... dialogue-less before lol I hope Byleth's emotional progression came across as intended. thanks if you made it this far! & I hope you enjoyed this self indulgent fluffy mess!


End file.
